The Portrait
by Ski October
Summary: / Is this how you see me? / This is how you are. / Korra/Iroh. AU oneshot for new!Korroh Week.


_Hello to you all again, my loves! My plans for this new Korroh Week have been altered slightly, so let me explain that for moment. My friend Elise(Blue-Winter-Angel) and I have a joint account(x-KarenxMarie-x)here on FFN, and we've decided to collaborate on the prompts for Korroh Week. [This account was orignally created for a Sky High trilogy that is still in the works, and if Elise agrees, the penname will be altered slightly]. So, all of the prompts I promised will be posted to that account, so do hop over and add us to your Alert list, would you kindly?_

_Now, this oneshot is my contribution to Korroh Week in terms of this account. As you may have guessed, it's based off the portrait scene from Titanic - my favorite scene in the entire film! - but I haven't seen the movie in years, so I decided to take some artistic liberties, also to make it more original. I suggest listening to _The Portrait_ audio soundtrack from the movie's OST. It's fabulous. I hope I did everyone justice, and that you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. _

_See you tomorrow for Korroh Week!_

_(P.S. - This hasn't been edited at all, lol. Elise is my beta, but I decided to surprise her with this xD)._

**DISCLAIMER: Everything to their respectives owners, thanksverymuch.**

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Candlelight flickers in each corner of the room, lending a soft glow to the sultry atmosphere. The only sounds are that of forced-calm breaths and the scratching of charcoal on paper.

Golden eyes flitting between his work and the inspiration that lay mere feet away, Iroh methodically brings his pencil across the white page, smooth strokes with a deft hand. Slowly, an image comes to life. The bend of her hand at the wrist, the curves of her breasts, the subtle dip of her leg as thigh becomes calf. No matter how accurately he captures her likeness in his book, no mere sketch will ever compare to her visage. She was exquisite.

"I'm sure your idolized painter never blushed while recreating his models," she remarks lightly. There is a teasing glint in her pale eyes, and he is glad to see she has finally relaxed.

"Chen Wei painted landscapes," he replies drily, hardly succeeding in concealing the pink hue that stains his cheeks. He is chastened, but Korra is a beautiful woman – a beautiful, _nude_ woman – sprawled out on his chaise before his eyes. He can hardly be blamed for taking notice. "I believe I said no talking."

Her infamous pout. "Aren't you finished yet? I'm getting anxious, just sitting around like this. You know I hate to be still for long."

"I do," he concedes, shading the patch of skin just beneath her navel. "I'm nearly finished, so stop your fidgeting."

"I just... what if Tarrlok finds us?"

Her voice is uncharacteristically meek. Iroh decides that he dislikes it. But Korra has a point. "I admit I'm not keen on the prospect of your deplorable fiancee walking in on our rendezvous, but, should the worst come to pass, I'm certain I can handle him."

Korra isn't entirely convinced, but she allows the matter to subside for the moment. Iroh refocuses on the drawing. It is nearly complete, and he is certain that it is the best work he has ever done. Every line and curve and dip and groove of her is as close to her utter perfection as he will ever come. He adds a few more finishing touches – a shade here, a line there – before he sets his pencil aside, wiping his hands across her trousers to rid them of the residue.

"Come and see," he tells her, still marveling at his work. He looks up in time to see her pulling on her silk robe – he ignores his disappointment – as she comes to him, her eyes gleaming curiously. She comes around and stops behind him, peering over his shoulder. Her eyes widen fractionally and her lips part in a soft gasp. Her fingers reach out to trail gingerly across the page.

"Is this how you see me?" she asks, her voice trembling.

"This is how you are," he murmurs, meeting her gaze with molten eyes. There is something flickering her icy depths that he can just barely understand, and sets something inside of him on fire.

He has less than a second to realize her intentions before her mouth is pressed firmly against his own, her tongue sliding past his lips, seeking something he is only too willing to give. The notebook clatters to the floor as he pulls her over the stool and into his lap. Long fingers reach up to tangle in fine, dark hair unbound from its ties. Her small hands fist tightly into the fabric of his shirt. His mouth slanted hungrily over hers, claiming what she offered; what he knew to be his.

Korra pulls away, her head tipping back to expose the caramel skin of her throat, tinted gold in the light of the candles. Iroh drags his lips along the soft skin, tongue flicking in and out to leave a wet trail in his wake. They are both breathing heavily now, nearly ragged with desire for one another. Korra utters a low sound, deep in her throat, that is something between a groan and a laugh.

"What?" he asks, raking his teeth gently along her collarbone. He finds a wicked delight in the way she shudders.

"This is crazy," she says, breathless. There is a smile in her eyes when he chances to look up at her. "But I think I might love you."

Desire is moved aside to make room for a new kind of warm; one that is soft and deep and infinitely tender. He presses a chaste kiss to her lips when she leans her forehead against his. He tries to think of a time in his life before this, when he had felt so whole and complete; so content. He cannot.

"I'm pretty sure I love you, too." His voice comes out a raspy whisper, and he doesn't think twice before tightening his arms around her trim waist to hold her closer to him.

"What will we do about Tarrlok?"

He cheekily quips, "Why, we toss him overboard, of course. Bound and gagged, though, seeing as he's a waterbender."

She chuckles with him, but her eyes are troubled. "I'm serious. Tarrlok might be vain and selfish, but he's not a man to be taken lightly. I'm a gem to him, another item in his pretty collection – he won't just give me up."

"You are no mere item, some trinket to be tucked away in a bejeweled box," Iroh mutters darkly. "As for a plan of action, I don't know. Perhaps we can explain things to him, perhaps we'll just run away when the boat docks on the mainland. Things are uncertain now, but we'll find away."

She looks upon him softly. "Do you really believe that?"

"I do."

Their next kiss is gentle, full of hope and promises and so much affection he almost can't bear it. Iroh knows with absolute certainty that nothing, least of all a blackguard socialite, will part him from this woman. His gaze falls to the portrait that lay abandoned on the floor. Korra's eyes, colorless but just as expressive, stare into his own and determination settles in him like iron.

_I believe in us. No one will keep us from each other. You love me._

_ And I love you._

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End file.
